


Supernatural Drabbles

by paraboobizarre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-07
Updated: 2010-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraboobizarre/pseuds/paraboobizarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Supernatural drabbles - most of them written for the Advent Drabbles 2010</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernatural Drabbles

** Granny's as Good as Dead  **

 

Dean hasn't felt so much like a nanny since Sam was little. Back then Sam would get into trouble trying to behave like an adult; getting his hands on Dad's guns, sneaking after them to a hunt. Now it's Sam trying to act like he has a soul that keeps Dean occupied, all those simple choices that make Sam trip up because he doesn't know, he weighs advantages instead; running over granny while she's crossing the street and he's in a hurry to get to three younger people who need him. Three against one, the odds are stacked against grandma...

 

 

**The Source**

 

“It's got a freaking tooth pick for seasoning – warning sign much?” Sam shrilled as he watched Dean lather four drops of The Source* on his burrito. Dean scowled, biting off a large chunk. For five minutes nothing happened, other than the usual twitches Dean'd get eating hot sauce. Then Dean's hand stopped mid-motion, food dropping back on its plate, his brother's eyes bulging...

“More milk?” Sam offered.

Dean had been hunched over the sink for the last twenty minutes, face red, panting.

“Sunoffa – ”

“Imagine what'll feel like coming out again...”

“Ughihateshoo!”

 

 

**Pucker up, sweet-cheeks**

 

“Dude, you have to kiss me.”

They're posing as a gay couple to get dirt on their suspect. Obviously they were quite convincing, seeing as the guy invited them to his party but still, Dean's getting way too caught up in this.

“M'not kissing you. There's...people here,” Sam hisses, smiling sugary sweet the next moment as their suspect/host floats by.

“Aw, Sammy...gonna hurt your pretty boyfriend's feelings?” Dean teases, takes a step closer and, oh God, Dean's squeezing his ass!

“Pucker up, sweet-cheeks,” Dean mutters, jerking his head at something right above them – a mistletoe. Figures!

 

 

**It's only after**

 

It's only after. It's only after the sex – okay, fucking (like bunnies) – when he feels so boneless and sated he could sleep for a week, the worn mattress sucking him right in, the heat under the blanket almost unbearable, his skin tingling like Sam's been leaving track marks all over, the steady white noise humming pleasantly in his head that Dean looks outside. It's snowing. Big, fat chunks of fluffy flakes tumbling down, gleaming as they turn in the parking lot's spotlights. Awww.

“You actually just sighed. Wistfully!” Sam pokes him, and Dean's too tired to protest.

 

 

**Jesus' birthday**

 

“...Christ was born on August 29. 4 AD. Your Christmas is an arbitrary date.”

The lady just huffs indignantly and waddles off, leaving Castiel standing there, looking confused.

“No luck proselytizing, huh?” Dean smirks.

It doesn't matter when Jesus was born. It's about what people mean when they're celebrating and not about the date, but Dean will never say it. Partly because their Christmases were never like that – holly, goodwill and family dinners and he wonders how he can miss something he doesn't even know. But for the most part, messing with Cas is just too funny.

 

 

**Like A Ghost**

 

He should be used to spending Christmas just with his mum. For as long as Ben can remember it's been the two of them. Then why does he miss Dean? Dean would go days without speaking to them, staring morosely into his whiskey glass, float through the house like a ghost, but Dean also made him laugh till he cried, helped him with his homework, let him have ice cream late at night even though mum had said no after dinner. There's a small box in Ben's drawer, a present for Dean. He'll just keep it till he comes back.

 

**And then you wake up**

 

Lisa's there and Ben. Dean's sitting on the couch with Sammy and Dad's in the easy chair opposite, pensively suckling on his beer and scowling whenever Sam switches channels. Dean's flicking cookie crumbs at Sam and his mum whacks him over the head as she passes through the living room on her way to the kitchen where Ellen and Jo bicker over how to stuff that monstrous bird the right way, while Jess and Bobby are off somewhere doing God knows what. Those are Dean's usual dreams round Christmas time. And everyone's alive and happy.

And then he wakes up.

 

 

**The Twelve Days of Christmas (Winchester Version) **

 

It's like the sight of Christmas decoration causes Dean physical pain.

The bar they're at tonight serves the beer bottles with little Santa Claus hats on top, tiny fur trimming and all. Dean rips it off with a scowl. On their way home, Dean almost runs over a group of carolers. No way that was an accident!

They're in the car and Sam's so tired it takes him a few moments to register that Dean's singing. “...six rock salt rifles, five busty Asian beauties, four silver bullets, three –”

“Dude!”

“...and a Sasquatch in a pear tree!”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at [ParabooBizarre @ Livejournal.com](http://paraboobizarre.livejournal.com/)


End file.
